


u want the answer?

by arabellagaleotti, trashcanbarbie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Healer Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger-centric, Idiots in Love, Impersonation, Infidelity, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Mornings, Mutual Pining, Order Member Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Very very minor, War, well helping pomfrey but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabellagaleotti/pseuds/arabellagaleotti, https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcanbarbie/pseuds/trashcanbarbie
Summary: “How can I not get weird! How? We’ve just — we're just kissed. Everyone single one of your ancestors are rolling over in their graves, and —”“Not every single one,” he interrupts, watching her blithely.“And Ron, oh my god, Ron —”“There was my second Great Aunt Tessa, who was very — very kind to the muggle women who worked for her, let’s say, and —”“Oh, this is just a mess, such a fucking mess,” she moans, holding her head.“— and all the Black side deserters. Sirius and Andromeda. Well, they might mind, considering, well you know—”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin & Draco Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

He arrives in dark October, before Halloween. There have been a few attempts to get them in the spirit for the holidays, but pumpkins only do so much. 

It’s pouring, even for London, and it has been for a week now. Unending rain gets everyone down, but doesn't stop the war.  Everyone’s been traipsing in and out for the past week, bringing mud and water and cold. Hermione only had to go out once, thank God, to pick up some supplies in Chelsea and take them to South Hampton, and she goes out grimly and comes back scowling, hair dripping water down the back of her neck. She hates this weather with everything she is. It's not just the rain, it’s the wind, and the soggy cold that just permeates everything, right to your bones, and it takes an age and a scalding bath to get your body temperature back to normal.

It’s not a surprise when the door flies open again, four people have come in this manner in the last hour, the silence after is abnormal. Hermione, in the kitchen, pokes her head out towards the door.

“Hello?” she calls. “You alright?”

Then— then he staggers forward, into her view, hair plastered to his forehead, dripping, out of breath, smeared with mud and streaks of vivid blood bleeding dripping his forehead, and Hermione just fumbles for her wand and screams for anybody else in the house, because she’s sure dozens more Death-Eaters are going to come flooding after him, and kill her, and kill Harry and — he just ducks her spell, and holds up his hands almost mockingly, staring at her like a dead scarecrow in a field, his body taunt and limp at the same time. 

A moment later he’s pinned to the wall by no less than four wands and he’s not even reacting, he’s not even holding up his hands in surrender, he’s just staring forward blankly. 

Hermione is both too sharp and not sharp enough with the panic and the noise, she’s frazzled, hasn't sleep in forty-eight hours — Madame Pomfrey needed help in their makeshift hospital in Brighton, Neville nearly lost an arm that night and another faceless girl bled out, and Hermione’s the only one competent enough at healing to help, so it's just her and Poppy that spend all those nights working, either frantically healing or falling asleep running diagnostic charms or brewing whatever potions they can and getting Snape for the rest but the point is t here’s shouting and arguing and the frenzied horde around the blond only grows. 

Hermione’s got her eyes fixed on him, and it’s only when Lupin pushes through the crowd saying, “it’s okay, it’s okay! Calm down, everyone!” that anyone calms down. He holds up his hands, his back facing towards Malfoy, who only now seems to take any interest in the proceedings. “There’s a reason he’s found Grimmauld, and been given safe entry. Meet the newest member of the order, Draco Malfoy.”

Malfoy blinks rapidly as Lupin speaks, and his back hits the wall. He slides down to sit where the polished hardwood floors meet the wall, and laughs — he laughs,and pushes the wet hair off the forehead and laughs some more. 

Hermione thinks he just might be insane. 

Lupin hauls him up, to his feet, the crowd parts to let them through, and he’s got his eyes on the ground — that smile still on his face, then he lifts his head and his eyes snag hers, and he grins a little harder. 

She clutches her shirt in her hands, just for something to hold, Ron next to her already whispering darkly to Harry. She ignores him, and watches his head bob as they walk away, Lupin talking quickly.

Turns out, Malfoy has been a spy for quite a long time, feeding Lupin information via letters and secret meetings. He’d started informing a little after they’d been caught at the manor. Hermione connects the dots quickly, but no one else does, since Ron’s going on about how ‘that git didn't do shit when Hermione was being tortured by his crazy aunt.’ Hermione flinches at the mention of Bellatrix and holds her scar. It burns sometimes, randomly, and Hermione thinks it might be Bellatrix thinking about her. 

He’s been passing information to The Order, like members and stakeholders and ambushes that don't turn out to be ambushes. He’d finally gotten caught, after an owl had been caught with critical information. He’d managed to escape from the manor, after killing his guards and sprinting past the blood wards until he could apparate, his father and others hot on his tail.

—

For the first week he’s in the house, no one sees hide or hair of him. He’s got his own room, a rarity for a house stuffed full with people. Hermione herself sleeps with Ginny and occasionally Luna, and he doesn't leave the empty little room that Hermione knows is there. Someone brings him meals and he sometimes eats, but not always. Hermione watches a lot. She doesn't even realise she is, half the time.

Everyone’s quiet and suspicious about him in that first week, whispering behind corners and speculating about anything and everything, every little detail. Or, Ron and Harry and George and Fred and Ginny and Tonks and Luna and everyone else, even Molly. Everything is done behind closed doors and sideways glances, since Lupin bans any talk about it at the dinner table after...the incident.

“What, we’re just sitting here like Malfoy — bloody Malfoy! — isn’t up there, probably plotting our deaths!”

Lupin shakes his head slowly, “He’s just a boy born into a family, like all of us. He’s realized his mistakes, and has apologised,” he says levelly, taking a bite of his chicken. 

“Who has he apologised to?” Ron says, rudely, his knife falling onto the ceramic plate with a clatter. 

“You think I just let him into our ranks without any proof of reform? No, of course not. Before he told me anything, we talked about blood purity. We talked about who he was, when I knew him in 3rd year, and who he is now. Believe me, he’s sorry for all the harm he has caused.”

“Hermione?” Ron asks, using her as a prop to continue this argument. Hermione takes another bite of her chicken, but it tastes like something awful. “Has he apologized to Hermione? He’s the one that fucking tormented her at Hogwarts, you know.”

“Ron…” Hermione says. She doesn't like being used as a morality argument. 

“Yes, I know there has been tension between you too in particular,” Lupin says, looking at her. All other chatter in the room has stopped, “and no, I don’t believe he has, but give it time. He hasn’t really had a chance to yet, but I do believe he’s truly sorry for how he’s treated Hermione in particular.”

Hermione’s left breathless. He’s talked about her?

“He hasn’t even left his room, eh?” Seamus Finnegan says thickly. 

“He’s still adjusting. The way he left was very traumatic.”

Ron snorts. “Oh, adjusting.”

Lupin places his fork on his plate delicately, and abandons his meal, looking at Ron directly with something that Hermione’s never seen on his face before. “Imagine you've been raised to believe influence is power, money is power, family is power. Your family is tortured and controlled. He-who-must not-be-named lives in your house. The darkness, the terror. You're forced to do horrible things you don't want to, or else your mother will die a terrible death. You’re given more power, as an inner circle member at 16, the youngest in both wars combined, and everyone is telling you it’s a great thing, fantastic, you should be proud, but...you start to have doubts, as you watch muggles being tortured and killed, and then you are forced, as well. When you throw up afterwards, you don't know why you feel so guilty.” Lupin turns a little now, faces the rest of the room, addressing all of them. His eyes are kind, but weigh heavily on Hermione’s shoulders. 

“I don’t understand it all, of course,” Lupin continues. “I’ve never been in that position before, and neither have you, but I’ve seen what kind of environment he comes from.” He pauses, and his eyes fall downwards for a moment, then flicks upwards again, “My...my very best friend, Sirius, was a Pureblood, and he became a blood traitor, too. There’s some true bravery that it takes to leave that. Sacred 28 Purebloods operate on a culture of family, connections, and money. As long as you have all that through family, you have power. Power is the most important thing. Power is what really separates you from everyone else, you see.” 

“Then you leave it. Everything you've ever known. Everything you’ve been taught to believe is powerful. For the other side, the side that your family hates. Family. Connections, all gone. You have no power.” Lupin shrugs. “Not quite as easy as being sorted into Gryffindor and making friends with Harry Potter, is it?” Ron stays silent. “Sirius, went through the same thing. It is immensely hard, even if you don't believe it.”

“Sirius?” Harry asks, searching for anything relating to his uncle, who he never learnt as much about as he would have liked. 

“Hmm. First Black to be sorted into Gryffindor...ever, or at least in centuries. That was only the beginning, of course,” Lupin chuckles, picking up his fork and continuing to seat. “He was thrown out eventually, you know. Nearly burnt off the family tree, just like Andromeda, his cousin, and Draco’s aunt.”

“Blimey, he’s related to Tonks,” one of the twins jokes.

Tonks scoffs. “Not to Malfoy, I’d bet. My mum was blown off the tree before he was even born. Doubt he even knows much about me, I doubt they talk much about the traitors in their line.”

“Why was Sirius thrown out?” Harry asks, ignoring the others.

Lupin clears his throat. “Well, he was gay.”

That causes a visceral, animal reaction across the table, eyebrows raising and knees crashing into the bottom of the table and a few scoffs and whispers. Lupin raises an eyebrow. “Did you all not know? He was rather...loud with it. You know Sirius.”

“No,” Harry says, “I didn't know.” He speaks for everyone, except a few older members, who just nods in acknowledgement. 

“Hm,” Lupin says. “Point of the matter is Draco’s done a very brave thing and is one of the order’s most valuable assets, through both his information and duelling prowess. Now, I’ll have no more talk of that. He’ll join us when he wants to.”

Ron mumbles something. Hermione shoots him a look. 

—

It’s early morning Tuesday the next week, and Hermione's still in her worn flannel pyjamas that she’s had since 5th year, sipping cold tea out of a mug, half-eaten toast in front of her. Tonks is clattering around in the pantry, swearing under her breath when she can't find whatever it is she wants. Hermione’s reading the paper results, scoffing at Skeeter under her breath every half-minute. 

Another pair of feet come down the stairs, not an unusual occurrence at all, with the house used as a halfway point for all of the Order. There’s only a few real permanent members, like Hermione. The feet pause — the Hermione can see a pair of jeans from under her paper, and a familiar, ice-cold, bored voice draws out. “What’s the time?” She puts down her paper, and looks at him, almost surprised. She was starting to think he’d never come down from the room up there. “Morning,” he adds, friendly, and he’s dressed, already, in muggle jeans and a loose T-shirt he must’ve gotten from Lupin, since he didn't arrive with anything but soaking robes, not even his wand, although Ollivander's meant to be making him one right now.

“Morning,” Hermione reminds herself to say back. It’s only a little shaky. “Uh, it’s —” she checks her watch, “nearly 6.”

“Right, thanks,” he says, and turns towards the pantry, where Tonks is poking her head out, familiar pink hair in play. Hermione can see him size her up, putting the pieces together before saying, tentatively, “Nymphadora?”

She blinks in surprise. “Uh, Tonks,” she corrects. “Hi. I didn't think you’d recognise me, cousin.”

He shrugs. “Can’t truly blast anyone off the tapestry.”

“Tapestry?” she asks. 

He shrugs simply, easily, like everyone's got one in their kitchen. “You know, the family tree.”

“Oh, yeah, think mum’s mentioned it," Tonks recalls, forehead creasing with concentration, and then smoothing with recognition.

“Yeah. She’d — your mum —” he says, like he's telling her a secret, “she'd always come back eventually. The magic liked her, you know. Anyway, Bella would get so terribly angry every time, but the tapestry would still show it, even after she tried to burn it.”

“So, what, it’s permanent?” Hermione asks, from the table. “You can’t remove anyone from it, ever?”

He shakes his head, “The magic doesn't like it when you try,” he grins, a little savage and victorious, then says, “especially if you’re friends with it. I— I asked it, some time ago, to keep me on. I figured I’d eventually get caught or die or whatever, and now —” he chuckles, “— right about now father will be desperately trying to burn me off,” he laughs shortly, shaking his head with mirth. 

Tonks smiles. “I like your style, Malfoy.”

“Where’s the bread?” he asks, like they haven't just been discussing family exiling them. 

Hermione’s the one that answers, back at the table, watching them curiously. “Uh, to your right.”

He nods, and finds it, pulls out two pieces, parallel on the counter. He twists up the top of the plastic bag and puts it back. He carries the pieces of bread over to the toaster, slides them in, turns it on after a moment of deliberation of what means what. He looks at the cabinets for a moment, guessing where the cutlery is? He makes his move, pulls one open — the right one, and hisses with quiet delight. He pulls out a butter knife, and then turns to them, again. Hermione realises she’s been looking, watching this whole time and blushes. 

He hasn't seemed to notice, or if he has, he doesn’t care.

“Do you have any spreads?” he asks them, eyes hovering on her, specifically. 

“Fridge,” she says again. 

He doesn't say anything, just nods, and he opens the fridge, grinning, pulling out butter and honey.

He scrapes a thin layer of butter and then a thick slathering of honey, folds it over, eats it sideways. Hermione Granger knows how he likes toast. I mean, she rationalizes, it is a fairly odd way to eat toast. Sideways? She supposes you don’t get any honey on your cheeks, but you could just — 

He finishes his first slice in ten seconds flat, she watches in awe as it disappears. He wipes crumbs off his mouth and catches her looking again. She turns her head back to the newspaper to hide her blush at being caught twice, and when she looks up again, his gaze is still on her. He flicks on the kettle — he knows how to do that. “Your tea’s cold. Want some more?”

She nods.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi all!

So, I've decided to move this fic over to my other account: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcanbarbie/pseuds/trashcanbarbie. I hate pseuds for no reason at all, so this seemed like the best idea to avoid irritating my Marvel fans who don't want to read Harry Potter, which is fair enough, and also giving myself some distinction and different spaces to work on. No other fic from this account will be moved over, but all other Harry Potter works of mine will be posted there in future. 

Chapter 2 is up over there already.

Here's the direct link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925903/chapters/68387884

Thanks!

xx

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! I have all the chapters mostly finished so I'll just be updating whenever. There's also some more dramione content coming so :)
> 
> leave a comment/kudos if u want 
> 
> xx


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